Painful Pasts and Forgotten Memories
by wicked.faith10
Summary: A face from Calleigh's past brings up bad memories and a painful past. Eric might be the only one who can help her through. Sucky summary but a good story! I promise! Chapter 6 posted! Reviews chapters lovelies!
1. Attack

"Wynter! Wynter, over here!" Maureen Epcot shouted to her best friend from her brand new Mercedes. The girl grinned as she put the car in park and waited. Her long blond hair settled around her shoulders as she checked herself in the rear view mirror and applied more cherry lip gloss.

"Oh my god!" Wynter screamed as she ran up to the car. She gawked at the side for a minute before opening the door and popping in. "This ride is completely awesome! How did you get your dad to pay for it?" She was almost the complete opposite of Maureen looks wise. Where Maureen was blond haired and blue eyed, Wynter was dark haired and blue eyed, an unlikely combination but that was Wynter's life. Where Maureen was homecoming queen, prom queen and captain of the cheerleader squad, Wynter had her own popularity from a different range. She was an athlete and one of the best in the school. Soccer team captain, basketball team captain and softball captain in the spring. She had a sport for every season and helped take each team to new heights. She and Maureen had been friends seeing they were only natural as they were the two most popular girls in the school.

"Daddy wants to keep me happy since mom ran off. I get the car, he gets about a couple of months worth of happiness." Maureen grinned as she started the engine. "What time do you have to be back here for practice?"

Wynter grinned, "Five-thirty, quarter till at the latest." She reached over and grabbed the seatbelt, strapping herself in.

"You really love testing the limits with Coach Strarver, don't you?" Maureen asked as she sped off towards the school exit. Coffee and cruising around town was a daily ritual for the two friends.

"Hey, I have to get some fun out of what I do, right? Besides, not like they're really gonna miss me for warm ups." Wynter tossed her gym bag and backpack into the backseat as Maureen put the top down. Minutes later they were buying an iced latte at the local café on Miami Beach. If they could, they would spend all day at the beach but both girls had practice. Getting back into the car, they turned the corner towards the boardwalk. Not even minutes later two men approached the car with guns, dragging the girls out. Maureen began screaming and Wynter struggling, knocking the gun out of her assailant's hands.

"Maureen don't struggle!" Wynter cried out to her, "I'll get you out of this, just don't struggle!" Trying to get away she reached into the backseat of the car, holding on to the edge for dear life. She ruffled in her bag for a minute, trying to keep her eyes on her attacker and Maureen at the same time. Finding what she was looking for in her gym bag, she released her hold on the car and swung out. She made contact with her attacker's shoulder with her softball bat, sending him flying to the ground. As he went down, Wynter turned her attentions towards Maureen and swung out at her attackers head. She connected with perfect aim as always. He was out cold.

"You okay?" She asked panting for breath as she looked at Maureen. The other girl was shaking and crying. Bruises already starting to show up on her arms, neck and thighs and her shirt was torn. "Maureen, are you all right?" All she could do was point at something behind Wynter. All at once, Wynter felt a sharp pain in her lower back side. She dropped the bat in shock and turned slightly as she fell. The attacker had stuck a knife into her side. Falling to the ground in what felt like slow, slow motion, Wynter's last image was of Maureen being dragged off toward a van. Wynter groped the ground for the gun. Even in her haze, she knew she didn't know how to use a gun, but how hard could it be? All she had to do was pull the trigger, right? Taking aim at the guys lower back, keeping careful clearance of Maureen, Wynter pulled the trigger.

"AH!" The assailant cried out, as he toppled to the ground. His hold on Maureen lifted and the girl ran away from him. "Son of a bitch! You little brat!" The guy made to turn and start stumbling towards both girls again. Wynter aimed again, and this time the man didn't get back up.

By now a crowd had gathered and Wynter had somehow rolled over onto her back which probably wasn't the smartest of moves on her part. Maureen was by her side in obvious shock, but still trying her best not to look distraught over the blood pooled on the sidewalk from her best friend. Her phone was in one hand, the 911 operator speaking louder than normal. Maureen talked back slightly, her hand grasping Wynter's tightly.

"Don't you dare die, Wyn," Maureen threatened her, "I mean it. You are not allowed to die."

Horatio and Calleigh were the first to the scene. At first, they believed the girl to be dead, lying in a large pool of her own blood. Her friend wouldn't let her go, and had to be forcibly removed so she could be treated for shock. Horatio knelt down to help with the paramedics as they worked on the other girl. She was out cold, but apparently still breathing. The two assailant's were dead, and in an obvious case of self defense, but there was still a threat. While processing the scene, Eric had found a slip of paper in the gunshot victim's vest pocket. A schedule of times and places both girls were going to be on any given day of the week. It wasn't random. This was a planned attack, which meant more attempts were probable.

"Calleigh, do me a favor and head to the hospital. Try and talk to either girl when you can." His voice was even, but angry at the same time. Horatio hated it when children were targeted. "Maybe they have some theories as to why they're the target of kidnapping."


	2. Revelations

**This is a shorter chapter but important to the plot. I promise! Enjoy!**

Five hours later, Wynter found herself in a hospital room, disoriented and groggy. The events of the past day came washing over her and she strained to see straight. She could hear muffled voices through the partially cracked door and she closed her eyes to listen.

"Me and Wynter have been friends since we were two." Maureen explained to Calliegh as a nurse wrapped her wrist. "We did everything together. More like sisters than friends, but that's what happens when you come from families like ours."

"What do you mean?" Calliegh asked, writing down everything the girl was telling her.

"The Epcot's, Hardesty's, Vanderburgh's, Hamilton's." she rolled her eyes at the names, "When you come from single child household in a family that is known for their money, you make friends with the same kind of kids in other homes. Our families had land next to each other so it was just natural."

"I see," Calleigh replied, "Maureen, what can you tell me about what happened today after school? What did you see?"

Maureen broke eye contact and stared at the ground. This was hard for her to talk about as she put her good hand up to her bruised face. "I don't really remember a lot. Just, um, picked up Wynter at school and we went for coffee like we usually do." She blinked her tears back, "I turned to go towards the docks and when we were at a stop sign these two guys pulled us out of the car and tried to drag us into some alley. Wynter reached in the backseat and got her bat out. She always has practice at five-thirty. She knocked out the guy holding me and then the other guy…" She couldn't contain her tears anymore and started sobbing.

"It must have been very scary, I know." Calliegh offered up her sympathy, "Can you think anyone who would have a reason to hurt you two? I know it's difficult but anything you can think of could be useful to us."

Maureen took a few breaths before she was able to compose herself again. "There are plenty of people who want to get back at our families, but me and Wynter…we tried not to make enemies."

"Okay, well, I think these nurses are going to take you to where your parents are and I'm going to go in and talk to Wynter." Calleigh smiled and showed her the two nurses waiting for her. Then she turned to walk into Wynter's room.

By now, Wynter opened her eyes and was staring at Calleigh hollowly. She had no reason to show any emotion at all. As Calleigh approached her, she showed some curiosity. This woman looked kind of familiar, like a face from a dream. A dream she would have often as a child, but after years of insomnia, of counseling and sleeping medications, Wynter dreamed no more.

"Hi, Wynter I'm Detective Calleigh Duquesne." She smiled as she pulled a chair up next to the bed.

Her throat was still scratchy from the breathing tube during her operation. "Have you called my parents yet?"

"Actually yes, we have. They've been notified at their hotel in New Zealand and are catching the next flight they can." Calleigh smiled at the girl, offering her best. Something about her was oddly familiar, yet different. Like a face she remembered from the past but couldn't place exactly. "Wynter, can you remember anything that happened today? Anything at all?"

Wynter closed her eyes and replayed the images in her mind, remembering the attack. She sat up slightly and opened her eyes. "We were attacked. I grabbed my bat and started wailing away. That's all I can really remember. Is Maureen okay? No one will tell me anything."

Calleigh furrowed her brow and cocked her head to the side. Something kept eating away at her brain as she looked at this girl. Something so vaguely familiar about her. "You don't remember talking to Horatio Caine at all?" Wynter shook her head. "Maureen is just fine. You saved her life, Wynter, and she saved yours." Her cell phone rang and she sat up straight as she answered. "Duquesne." Calleigh spoke.

"Calleigh, I just ran DNA samples from the two girls and put them in the system. There's something interesting about Wynter Hardesty. I need you to come down here soon and whatever you do, keep her parents away from her." Horatio's voice sounded on the other end.


	3. Cerie

Back at the lab, Calleigh walked in and looked around for Horatio. Coming in quick behind her, Horatio grabbed her by the arm and started to walk towards the DNA lab. He entered the lab and closed the door behind them, speaking very quietly. "It appears our Wynter Hardesty isn't Wynter Hardesty at all, Calleigh." He kept his gaze intent on her, and leaned against the table. "Calleigh…" he took a pause and sighed, "Do you remember New Orleans, about fourteen years ago?"

"Are you talking a case or personal, Horatio?" Calleigh wasn't sure where this conversation was leading exactly, but Horatio had an odd air about him as they spoke.

"A case for the Louisiana FBI department, a bit personal for you, I think." Horatio replied, holding a folder in his hand. He handed it over to Calleigh who looked at the name on the file. Her first instinct was to drop the folder and run from what she saw, but she couldn't. Calleigh had forced herself a long time ago to harden her emotions when they involved her personal life. Probably not the best way to deal with life, but at least this way she wasn't going to get hurt again like when she was a little girl. 'Cerie Duquesne' was the file name, a name Calleigh hadn't heard since she was in her late teens, early twenties. She had let this memory go a long time ago, but her mind had started drifting back.

_Laughing. Little kids laughing. Calleigh walked around her Grandmother's house towards the backyard, fresh from her first year at college. She had spent a lot of time at this house in summers past, due to the fragile relationship of her parents and her father's alcoholic tendencies. As she opened the back gate her Grandmother's golden retriever nipped at her lovingly and she patted its head before a little boy called its name._

_"Clover, come here boy!" The sandy blonde said, he couldn't have been more than eight or nine. His brother, merely four years old sat in an old tire swing beside him, only a pair of jeans to cover his tiny body. It was a party indeed, with all the grandchildren, aunts and uncles around, Calleigh must have been the last to arrive. She was greeted warmly as she pressed on, hugs and kisses came through the crowd of people waiting to say hello. The last, a little girl, came toddling up to her in a pair of tiny jeans and a white t-shirt with the emblem of Calleigh's college across it. Her dark hair was pulled up into two thin pigtails that had a slight wave in them. This was Calleigh's youngest cousin at two years old, and she was a favorite among the family. Bright and cheery, intriguing and exploratory too, this little girl had a thrill for adventure just like any Louisiana family would hope for._

_Calleigh reached down and picked her up, tossing her into the air above her head and catching her lightly. They both laughed, "Hey, Cerie, how you doing sweetie?" Calleigh hugged her close as she spoke. Cerie, as the girl was called, grinned and nodded. She hadn't mastered the art of speaking yet, but she was doing just fine for her age. Cerie was more of an observer anyways._

_"Swing, 'Ca-ee', swing!" the little girl grinned and pointed back to the swing set where all the other cousins were playing._

_"Alright, we'll go swing." She took the little girl over to the swings and put her in the toddler seat and began to push her. Both smiling as the little girl looked back at Calleigh, her dark hair streaming behind her._

The laughter echoed in Calleigh's ears as she stared off into space. The next thing she heard was Horatio's voice repeating her name. Blinking, she shook off the thoughts and turned to face him, "Yeah, I'm here." She turned to look at Horatio.

"Calleigh, there's something you should know about Wynter Hardesty in connection to that file." He stepped closer, but Calleigh stepped backwards, breaking eye contact again. She started shaking her head as he approached. "Calleigh…its okay."

"Horatio, I'm begging you…" she looked up at him with her large blue eyes and held up the file in her hand, "Don't bring this up. This file…this name has caused nothing but pain in my family."

"Calleigh, we need to discuss this before we can do anything else with this case. And above all, we must keep her parents at a safe distance until we can figure this out."

"Horatio, I'm telling you, there cannot be a connection between this little girl and the teenager sitting in the hospital recovering from a stab wound. Please, let it go." Calleigh looked up at him with pleading eyes. The truth was, Cerie had died so many years ago for so many people in her family, revisiting this area was only a heartache waiting to happen.

"Calleigh, I need to know what happened. I know you were there that day, along with your older cousin and two younger boys and Cerie. I promise you this is circumstantial to the case. I need to know what happened." He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, a comforting hand. Calleigh sighed quite heavily and seeming reluctant though she nodded her head. Horatio turned her in the direction of an interview room and helped her into a chair opposite the one he sat down in. Reaching inside the pocket of his suit coat, he pulled out a tape recorder and set it on the table, turning it on to record. Then he folded his hands and leaned against the table, looking at Calleigh, studying her face.

"Calleigh? Can you tell me what happened fourteen years ago?"

Sighing once again, Calleigh looked away from Horatio and spoke slowly, her voice quivering, "It was our annual family reunion and it was my second day at my Grandmother's house. The adults went out on a pontoon for the day and Dayton and I took the younger cousins out to the park." She paused, looking completely stressed, "I don't know how it happened. One minute she was there and the next she was gone. We looked for hours with the cops and we continued searching for months. I even skipped a semester of school for her but nothing ever turned up."

It was too hard to talk about it anymore, or get further into detail. These were all memories Calleigh had buried so far beneath the surface many years before she even came to Miami. Memories no one in her office knew about, probably not even the state. In Louisiana, the case had gone cold only a year after Cerie had gone missing, and any law enforcement officer knew that after a year with no leads and nothing to stand on, the case would probably never see the light of day again. Calleigh just wanted to forget. Even more so she wanted Horatio to destroy any evidence he had gathered linking Cerie to Wynter Hardesty, but if he had DNA evidence, it would be pretty compelling.

"Calleigh, I want you to try and remain as calm as you can, but the truth is Wynter Hardesty and Cerie Duquesne are the same person." Horatio reached his hand across the table and placed it gently on top of Calleigh's folded hands and gave her a squeeze. The younger woman's reaction was almost instantaneous. Her brow crinkled as her eyes glazed over with tears. No one had ever seen Calleigh break down before. There had been a few touching moments with Eric over the years, but never like this, never so vulnerable.

Before she let any tears fall down her cheeks, Calleigh shoved her chair backwards, ripping her hands out from under Horatio's grasp and stood up. Without another word, she walked out of the room. The moment her feet hit the hall floor, she broke into a run towards the locker room. If Calleigh was going to have a full meltdown, she was going to do it privately, after all, she had to save some face among her colleagues.

The locker room was sparse, no one around on an average work day. In the far corner, near the back of the room and next to the showers, Calleigh slid down against the wall and pulled her knees close to her chest. As her blond hair fell down in front of her face, she began to sob. How long had she buried all of this, all the pain of losing someone so dear to her heart? Since that fateful day, Calleigh hadn't been all too close with her family, especially her older cousin, Dayton. There had been plenty of blame to go around, though the end result was always the same. What happened wasn't anyone's fault but the guy who took Cerie, at least that's what family spoke out loud. Everyone felt the same way though, everyone wanted someone to blame. Things were never the same after that summer, and Calleigh just couldn't go back to that place, not mentally and certainly not emotionally.

She lost track of time as her mind raced over forgotten memories of her cousin. The more she thought on it, the more detail came back. Pictures ran through her mind, each forming like a snapshot from a scrapbook. All of a sudden, she could remember the day Cerie was born, the phone call she got when the baby girl took her first step, started talking, her first birthday. Her family had been robbed of so many precious years, she was wary of the results Horatio had just shown her. While she sat in a sea of silent tears, balled up in a corner, a stranger's arm found its way around her shoulders and pulled her in close.

Almost instantly, Calleigh knew exactly who was there to comfort her. Over the years, whenever she'd needed a strong shoulder to lean on, he'd been there. Throughout those years, his perfectly sized arms and chest had molded to fit her to form, and now here he was, pulling her body onto his lap as he sat down next to the spot that once occupied her. Calleigh buried her head against his chest just under his collarbone and let out a wispy sob. Eric held on to her with one hand, holding her close as she wept. His other hand allowed his fingers to bury themselves in her long blond hair, holding her to his chest.

"H told me all about it, Cal," he said in a saddened tone, "I promise you, we're going to get to the bottom of this. _I'm_ going to figure this out."


	4. Filling the Void

Calleigh sat on her bed in her modest Miami apartment. Unlike half the high profile cases the Dade County crime lab investigated, Calleigh didn't exploit her lifestyle. The truth was she didn't spend much time in her home at all, choosing to throw herself fully into her work. All she really needed was a place to sleep, store her clothes and shower, of course it was nice to lounge around in her PJ's when her day off rolled around. Today was not her scheduled day off really. Horatio had told her to take the day off, ordered it really. He had also told the others if Calleigh needed one of them, she was number one priority. She knew it was pointless to have them all on standby and Horatio knew it too. Sometimes Calleigh was just too proud for her own good. She had followed her boss's orders though, and hadn't gone in to work today. Instead, she'd pulled out a box of old photos, crept to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee and settled in for a long day of reminiscing.

Since yesterday Eric Delko had refused to leave her side. He was a sweet man and a dear friend, that much was obvious to anyone who knew him. Lately, though, Calleigh had begun to see him in a new light. Somehow, every moment she needed him whether she knew it or not, he was there for her. After her breakdown in the lab yesterday, Eric had refused to leave her side. He'd taken her home, waited while she cleaned up and changed, he even made her dinner and topped it off with sleeping on her couch. Calleigh hadn't been sure at the time, and she hadn't asked him to do anything, but she didn't want him to go.

At this moment, as Calleigh tiptoed back to her bedroom, Eric was sound asleep on the couch. From her vantage point, she could see only his head propped up by pillows. His gunshot scar was in plain sight, looking only like a vague reminder of the near death experience. It made her smile, his peaceful form sleeping on her couch. Once she was back in her room, she slowly closed the french doors until she heard the click.

The box was full of pictures from her past. Old baby photos her mother had given her, dance recitals, elementary school plays, her first trip to the gun range with her dad, her first hunting trip; in fact, most of the photos from age eight on Calleigh usually had some kind of gun in her hands and a big grin plastered on her tiny face. Graduation photos, high school sweethearts, parties, family gatherings, holidays, prom pictures, they were all there in that box. As a rule, Calleigh didn't dwell in the past. To her, past memories are just that, memories. They were fun to remember, not great to relive. And every moment seemed as if she was reliving those old memories.

The faces were so vivid, so real, and the voices she could hear plain as day. Her older cousin, Dayton's thick Louisiana drawl, his eight year old brother Elijah and his overly loud tones, not all that unusual for a young child. Then there was Madden, six year old brother of the other two, every 'R' coming out sounding like a 'W' and his 'S's' hissed while his tongue stuck between his teeth. The three older brothers of her long lost cousin. She could see them all plain as day in her mind, but they probably looked different in this day. Older, most definitely. Dayton would be nearing forty, the oldest of all the Duquesne grandchildren and as far as Calleigh knew he was married with a whole brood of his own and working in making the family line of lawyers proud as a prosecutor. Elijah was only twenty-two and working as a tour guide in New Orleans if she remembered correctly, while the twenty year old Madden was an Ensign in the Navy stationed in Hawaii. Calleigh hadn't seen any of them in years, but from what little her father told her, she could piece all the rest together. And now she found herself missing them, after all these years.

Calleigh pulled a simple eight by ten picture from the box and ran her fingers around the edges. The girl in the picture was only two, and her soft dark hair had been curled with tiny wisps of a ringlets framing her round face. Her tiny arms were folded in front of her as she held on to a tiny bouquet of flowers. Her dress was a soft shade of lavender, with a bow tying around in the back, and a matching headband. Her smile said everything about her. Wide and toothy, poised for a laugh. Calleigh could feel the tears welling up as she just looked at the picture. It had been taken at a friend's wedding and she remembered how excited Cerie had been. The young bride had chosen her to be the flower girl and so true to Cerie in form, the star of the wedding. One of the last pictures taken of Cerie before her disappearance.

"Hey," The voice startled her from her reflection and Calleigh turned suddenly her hand accidentally backhanded her coffee off of her nightstand and onto the floor.

"Oh crap!" her southern drawl became only thicker when she was in the comfort of her own home Eric had come to realize. He broke into a smile and bent over to pick up the mug, holding it in his hand.

"I'll--" He stopped his next thought as Calleigh hopped off the bed and rushed into the adjoining bathroom for a towel. With a small laugh, Eric shook his head and set the cup back down on the nightstand. "Calleigh, hey, Cal," he tried to grab her attention when the woman came back into the room and began scrubbing at the carpet. Eric noticed the box on the bed and the displaced pictures, cluing him in on her morning activities. "Cal, leave it. Come on. Come here," With his hands firmly placed on her shoulders, Eric directed her back to her bed and sat her down. Taking the towel from her hands, he finished cleaning up the mess and tossed the dirty towel into the laundry basket in the corner of the room.

"Alright," he sat down next to her and picked up the picture of Cerie, "Is this her, Cal?" He sounded almost surprised.

Calleigh nodded, a sad smile forming across her face, "Yeah, that's Cerie. Cerie Madeline Duquesne. She was so excited in this picture...got to be the flower girl in a family friend's wedding. That was the spring before she went missing. Only a few months really." With the reminder, her face fell and Calleigh's head instinctively went to lean on Eric's shoulder. It was just a natural fit for the two of them, especially as Eric placed his arm around her.

"It's not your fault she was taken, Calleigh," Eric told her definitively, "You were just a kid yourself. You can't beat yourself up over this."

"You have no idea, Eric, just no idea." Her voice cracked as she fought back another sob. She'd cried too much on this already and it was time to stop. "This whole thing, it tore my family apart. I haven't seen my cousins in years. Dayton and I...we always blamed ourselves and probably each other deep down."

Eric pulled her even closer and set the picture down, "Yeah, but Cal, you've found her. You _found_ her. That has to count for a little bit of happiness, right?" After a few moments of silence, Calleigh began to regain her composure and sat up straighter, lifting her head slightly from his shoulders. Her face had turned towards him now and she was staring up into his eyes. Something was just clicking between the two of them lately. Something so unexplainable, something neither of them had really felt before, something so _real_. Before she knew what she was doing, Calleigh found her hand brushing against his cheek, cupping his deeply chiseled face. Without thinking, she was leaning herself upwards and pressing her lips against his gently.

It was so unexpected, so spontaneous, Eric almost jerked backwards. But with the feel of her lips against his Eric relaxed and began to kiss her back. It was the tender moment he'd been longing for with Calleigh since he had gotten shot. Now he felt as if he was somehow taking advantage of his friend in need. He pulled back only slightly and brushed some of her long blond hair back from her face, "Cal, I think you should go see her today."

To his surprise, the woman nodded and nuzzled herself right against the crook of his neck, then wrapped her arms around his chest, holding him close, "I know."

* * *

The world around her faded in from blurry images to sharper ones consistently whenever Wynter opened her eyes. She could feel the tubes running in and out of her arms pumping the medications into her body, and as groggy as they made her, they felt good. She was in a blissful place at the moment, and was swimming just to understand the nurse when she came to check on her. From what she could gather, the assailant had managed to stick the knife in a bit deeper than anyone had expected and had managed to hit her large intestine. Since the CSI woman had been in to talk to her, Wynter had ended up in the OR twice for some emergency surgeries. Each time she came back out to recovery she felt more confused than before. One image that did stick out in her mind was the face of that woman. She'd seen her twice now. Once by Maureen's car and once in her hospital room, but somehow Wynter thought she had seen her before. Maybe in a dream? Maybe she had passed her by some day? Why was this woman haunting her? When her eyes were open the world was a blur but when they were closed, even more confusing images plagued her mind. So, Wynter opted for open eyes.

When she did open her eyes and they began to focus, Wynter was met with a familiar face. The blond haired blue eyed best friend of hers was there, sleeping in what had to be the world's most uncomfortable chair. Wynter smiled as one of her hands reached over and nudged Maureen slightly. The other girl stirred somewhat and blinked her eyes open. "Hey!" Her starting volume was a bit too loud and at Wynter's wince, she corrected herself quickly. Talking at a near whisper, Maureen leaned closer, resting her arms and chin on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

Wynter let out a soft chuckle, her dry lips parting as she leaned her head back into her pillow, "Well, Maureen, I kind of feel like someone shoved some steel into my side and then doctors repeatedly opened me up to poke around. In other words-- I feel like a pin cushion." Another laugh let her friend know she was only joking and was okay to laugh. "How are you?"

It was Maureen's turn to laugh this time, "I'm fine, Wyn. Just bumps and bruises." Her hand reached out and grabbed her friend's hand, holding it firmly. "I was worried about you. Coach is going to kill you though."

Wynter laughed again. Of all things Maureen could bring up, she had to bring up softball. Typical, really. "Where are my parents?"

"They got in like an hour ago, but the cops won't let them near you. Its like they think they're involved or something." She was exasperated as she spoke, "They've even questioned my parents. Why would our parents want to hurt us? Why would your parents want to put you in a hospital? Look at you!"

Wynter closed her eyes once again and desperately tried to make the room stop spinning. Even with closed eyes the world went round and round again. She sat up suddenly, groaning deeply as she did so, and began pulling out her IV lines. The sting of the needles being removed from her skin was dull compared to the pain in her side. Who would really be surprised when comparing pin pricks and a five inch surgical wound. Next to go was the breathing tube around her nose, then her heart monitor. Wynter swung her legs over the side of her bed, wincing once again. It was getting harder and harder to conceal the obvious pain she was in.

"Wynter, what the hell are you doing?" Maureen got up from her seat and looped her arm under her friend's shoulder before she fell. "Good god you're heavy," Her exasperated tone broke off under the strain of her bruised body trying to hold up Wynter.

"Come on," Wynter rolled her eyes at Maureen as she slid her feet across the floor. Picking them up right now would be too much effort for her medicated state. The room leaned from one side to the other as she managed to make her way to the bathroom. With her hands firmly against the counter, she let go of Maureen and bent close. "Do I have a change of clothes?" There was no answer for a moment and Wynter turned to looked towards Maureen with pointedness. Before the other girl could answer, there were a scrambling of nurses and doctors bursting forth into the room. The removal of her chest monitors had prompted a code blue from the sudden flat line.

For a moment, the attending and his nurses looked baffled by her disappearance. Then they caught sight of the bathroom. The nurses were none too pleased, but the attending looked thoroughly pissed. As he marched towards her, Wynter took a stumbling step backwards. "Miss Hardesty, what do you think you're doing? You need to be in bed, resting."

"No, I need to get out of here." Wynter shot back at him defensively, "Too many questions aren't being answered. So I...I gotta get out of here." She shook her head and tried to push past Maureen, instead she took a tumbling step forward into the doctor before her. The man caught her under her arms, expertly avoiding her wounds. He maneuvered one of his arms under her knees and lifted her upwards before carrying her back to the bed. Once securely under the sheets, the nurses began to re-administer the IV lines and heart monitors while the doctor scolded her further. Her protests of being stuck in bed were drowned out by the swimming sensation in her head as the young doctor gave a dose of sedatives. At first, Wynter fought the losing grip she had on her senses but soothing words from Maureen and the hold of her hand on Wynter's was enough to ensure her into a comforting and blissful sleep.

In three hours time, she was coming round again, vision hazy as ever. This haze was even more horrible than the spinning feeling you get after a night of heavy partying. Every time your eyes were closed, the world spun. When the eyes were open, blurred images filled the mind. So, Wynter focused on one particular spot as her world righted itself. The outline of a short, long haired blond loomed before her in the dim light of her hospital room. Before the face could be made out completely, Wynter's constricted pupils made their assumptions to her brain. "Maureen, I thought they sent you home?"

The voice that came back was different from the one Wynter expected to hear. In fact, it startled her into straining them to see straighter. "Actually, your friend is sleeping over on the couch there. The nurses told me she refuses to leave your side." As Wynter's eyes focused in on the blond haired CSI woman, she allowed herself to tune in on the woman's voice. There was something so interesting about that voice. The soft southern drawl, the high tone of it, even the concrete confidence that anyone could hear emanating from her lips. There was a flash in her mind's eye to a large yard filled with flowers and trees and people. A golden retriever running up to a young boy in nothing but a pair of rugged jeans with a mop of hair falling into his eyes. There was something about that boy and his dog that felt so familiar, so safe to her.

"Sorry," Wynter told the woman as the room finally came into focus, "I know you stopped by before but I really don't remember your name."

"That's okay," Calleigh assured her as she sat up in her chair, "I'm Calleigh Duquesne with the Miami crime lab. I just stopped by to check on you and maybe ask a few questions if you were awake."

Wynter sat up slowly in her bed, wincing a little. Her bandaging was fresh, meaning the nurses probably had come in to clean her up somewhat while she was knocked out. She hated the idea of being so helpless and at the will of someone else's hand. Her brow furrowed, Wynter cocked her head to the side letting her dark hair spill over her shoulder, "Great. Maybe you can tell me why they won't let my parents in to see me?"

It was an awkward situation that had just presented itself to Calleigh. A question better suited for Horatio or Eric. Part of her wanted to rush to the door and pull Eric inside the room for support, but knew he'd most likely refuse to come in from the hall. The whole way over, he had told her this was her time to get to know the young woman her cousin was. Time to find out what her life had been like and how much she remembered of her real family before it all went down on official FBI paper. What explanation could she possibly offer Wynter for why her parents, or alleged parents anyways, couldn't see her? At one of the most trying times in a young teenage girl's life, she wasn't allowed to see her parents. It was a cruel world.

"Ce—Wynter, there's something we need to talk about, sweetheart." Calleigh told her with precision. She had rehearsed these lines for the few hours she had before reaching the hospital. Of course, things don't appear nearly as scary in one's head than they do out loud. "There are some underlying reasons why we have to keep you separated from them. It involves a kidnapping case fourteen years ago."

Wynter's brow furrowed in confusion, "What are you talking about? Kidnapping? And you think my parents are involved?"

Calleigh nodded, trying not to stress the girl out anymore, "We aren't sure of their connection yet, but as soon as its all sorted out, you'll be able to see them." She offered up a comforting smile until Wynter seemed to relax some in her bed. She wasn't sure whether it was her words or the medications she was on, but Wynter seemed non confrontational. After a few more moments of awkward silence, Calleigh moved to get up and leave the room, but Wynter's arm shot out as if trying to reach for Calleigh's arm.

"Please," the word came out too quickly and without thinking, "Don't go. I don't like to be alone." For some reason, this woman was so familiar to her, so comforting. Calleigh gave a short little smile, more out of relief and a welling of emotions than in consoling for Wynter.

"They said," Wynter started talking again once Calleigh sat back down in her chair, "They said I went in to surgery twice already, and that the chance for internal bleeding was pretty high. Detective Duquesne, have you ever felt completely helpless?"

Calleigh laughed slightly. What a question to be asked, especially by Wynter herself. With her famous southern toothy grin on her face, Calleigh replied, "Yes, I have actually. But Wynter...you're not helpless here. You're injured, nothing more. Everything is going to work out the way it is supposed to."

As the CSI spoke, she could tell another round of meds were hitting Wynter's bloodstream. Just in time for the girl to become hazy about the kidnapping information Calleigh had just told her. Her eyes began to roll around in her head again. "There's something about you, Detective Duquesne, that is quite familiar. Like a dream I had once with two little boys playing on a swing set..." Wynter was drifting further and further now, "And Clover. Big, furry Clover..." Wynter grew quiet, and her hand she had been holding out as if calling for a dog, fell limp against the bed sheets. The words stuck fresh in Calleigh's mind. The two little boys, the swing set, even the dog. Wynter was beginning to remember, Calleigh was sure of it. She was remembering who she really was.


	5. Coping

It had been exactly one day since Calleigh had found out her baby cousin was still alive. One day since the guilt of losing her all those years ago had finally lifted, only to be replaced by a newfound guilt. She'd been here. All this time and Cerie had actually been here, in Miami. How many years had Calleigh been working here, in Miami, Florida and she never knew her cousin was within arms length? How many pictures of the Hardesty family had plastered local papers and magazines and she'd never noticed their daughter looked nothing like them, yet she was so similar to Dayton, Elijah and Madden? Of all her years of solving crimes and she'd never spotted this? The whole situation was beginning to seem more and more like her fault.

Rolling over, she came face to face with Eric, lying atop her covers and fully dressed. After her visit to the hospital Calleigh had completely broken down again and Eric had been there. They had fallen asleep in each others arms, at least Eric had fallen asleep. At the end of the day she had needed him more than ever and he was more than willing to fill that need. While at the hospital, Calleigh had stayed with Wynter until she fell asleep. When she left, she was full of confusion. How had she gone from such a confident and enforcing woman to someone so assailable. Her only solace came from Delko laying beside her.

Turning onto her right side, Calleigh faced the dark toned man sleeping beside her. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, she knew that full well. He'd wanted to stay awake long enough to watch her drift into the realm of dreams, but Eric had been keeping such a watchful eye over her he'd neglected his own rest. Calleigh could only smile at his devotion. Her eyes roamed over his face, taking in every detail of his peaceful outlook. His buxom lips and the long ridge line of his nose, those beautiful brown eyes she couldn't actually see at this moment but could picture in her mind. Those big beautiful brown eyes that, whenever they were trained on Calleigh, told a story both of them knew too well. It was a dance they'd both taken part in for the past few years. Eric had looked at her in a new way since his shooting and had dropped hints about his feelings. Time and time again Calleigh had side stepped the issue as long as she could. The past few days though, she'd caved completely. All she needed were his reassuring arms around her and everything felt better.

There were still loads of things to take care of regarding Wynter. Calleigh had to call her cousins Dayton, Elijah and Madden; she needed to call her own parents not to mention the FBI agents she'd have to talk with. Then there was the actual moment where she would have to tell Wynter who she really was. After all was said and done, they still had to charge the Hardesty's with kidnapping not to mention find out who had assaulted Wynter and Maureen and why. Calleigh's To-Do list was growing exponentially. In fact, the To-Do list writing itself in her head was the reason she couldn't sleep tonight.

Her hand reached out slightly and she let her fingers drift across his hair. Towards the back of his head, she could feel the scar from the wound that had once threatened his life. Just touching it made her quiver with fear, the same fear she had felt those few years ago. That bullet had almost taken her partner away from her, but at the same time, it had opened Eric up enough to realize his feelings for her. Sure, it had taken some time for both of them to believe these feelings were true, but now they were here it was wonderful. As her hand drifted to cup his cheek, Calleigh felt his arms wrap fully around her midsection and pull her closer to him. The trickster, he wasn't really asleep. Calleigh smiled and allowed him to move her body next to his, her arms naturally draping over his broad set shoulders.

"You're amazing, you know that?" His voice was muffled through her hair and the pillow. "With what we do at work, this whole case with your cousin, reconnecting with your family. You do it all with that smile on your face. Its inspirational, Cal."

She had to laugh a little at his little speech. Where she thought herself discombobulated and fully unraveled, Delko saw inspiration and hope. Some sense of calmness she derived from the gore they witnessed in their personal lives as well as work ones. That was Calleigh, though, she had to remind herself. Her true nature was never uncovered at work. Straight faced and serious, she had a sense of justice and the lab was where she proved it. Her personal life, family and friends, her past, all of it had never been discussed before with her colleagues. Horatio knew bits and pieces, as did the others but no one knew the full story. Tonight would be the first time she ever divulged such information to Eric. "How can you say that? Eric, you only know one side of me. The side everyone sees at work. No one knows anything else." His eyes popped open when she said this, his look quizzical as he stared into her eyes. "Can you honestly look at me and say you didn't feel betrayed like everyone else when you found out I had a cousin who was kidnapped fourteen years ago? That I haven't spoken to any of my cousins since, or been back home to Louisiana because of it?"

His lips parted and with the simplest of ease, he grinned at her, "Not at all." Her slightly shocked look caused him to elaborate his stance, "Calleigh, work is work. Sure, we make close friendships and bonds with each other, but that doesn't mean we share everything. There are parts about my past no one at the lab knows, not even you, Bullet Girl." Eric gave her a little wink and let his arms squeeze her slightly. Calleigh grinned and a slight southern chuckle escaped her lips as she buried her face in his shirt. "Tell me about your family, Cal."

"There's not much to tell, Eric," she replied too simply. The truth was, Calleigh had been out of touch with her family for so long, she really didn't have much to tell. "I left Louisiana when I was twenty-one. Came to Florida and I haven't been home since."

"That's not what I meant, Calleigh," His free hand moved down towards her chin and raised her head from his chest. Her eyes peered into his. They told her story more than any words ever could. When he looked, really looked into her eyes, Eric could see all the years of pain and guilt, all the separation and how it was tearing her apart inside. He wished so badly he could fix it all for her, but some things were beyond his control. "Tell me why you left."

She let out a deep sigh and looked away from him, the tears already threatening to spill over. "I left—I left because it was my fault. I was supposed to be watching Cerie that day at the park. Dayton was off playing with Madden and Elijah. I looked away for just two minutes and she was gone. They never said it out loud, but I know the whole family felt that way. Especially my aunt and uncle. I just couldn't stay there and survive." Instead of pulling back into his chest, Calleigh sat up and swung her legs off the bed. "I'm going to go take a shower and then I'm ordering some take out."

Calleigh left him there, looking after her as she walked towards the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her. Letting people in so deep was something she was not used to. In fact, since she was twenty-one, Calleigh hadn't let anyone in too deep. As she turned on the water, she stepped into the pouring drops, fully clothed. Leaning against the tile, Calleigh wept.

---

Horatio Caine stood across from the couple, taking in everything about their appearance. The high end fashionable clothes, the layers of jewelry, the well groomed hands, fingernails and hair. Whit and Ashley Hardesty certainly kept appearances intimidating for those less fortunate than them, but looks did not discourage Horatio from his job. In fact, he felt a certain animosity towards these two because someone he cared for very deeply was hurting. Hurting because of their actions. While they sat in their stew of worry over their daughter and confusion as to the interrogation, Horatio removed his sunglasses ever so slowly and hooked them around his neck.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant Caine, but can you please tell us why we can't see our daughter? My wife and I rushed back here because we were told she was in the hospital. It's just not right to keep us from our child at a time like this." Whit Hardesty started out. Horatio loved how he played the concerned father card superbly. It was inspirational, should the Lieutenant ever decide to pursue a career in acting.

"I couldn't agree more, Mr. Hardesty, except there's one problem. Wynter is not your daughter." The words came out crisp and cool, like a blade of ice slicing through powdery snow. There was no need to hold back, really. Horatio had his science to back up his claim and the Hardestys' only had their lies.

"What a horrible thing to say!" Ashley Hardesty joined in now, "Of course she's our daughter. And now she's hurt probably wondering where her mother and father are!" Horatio had to give her credit, she held fast to her convictions.

"It's the truth and you both know it. Please don't insult me further by lying some more. I have the DNA results which incidentally red flagged an FBI kidnapping case from fourteen years ago. Would either of you care to speak about that?" The folder in his hand slapped against the glass table and slid far enough for both of them to see the picture of Wynter as a toddler. "Funny thing, that's a picture of Cerie Duquesne, born of New Orleans, Louisiana to Kent and Lilah Duquesne. She disappeared fourteen years ago from a playground, and when we ran your daughter's DNA against hers, we got a match."

Their faces grew tight, as if trying to hide the fear. He'd caught them, that much Horatio knew for certain. He could only speculate as to the cover up the couple may go for, but they remained silent until Whit Hardesty leaned forward, already on the defensive. "We didn't do anything wrong. A little girl needed a home and we needed her. It was match, nothing more. You can't take her from us now. It's not right."

A half smile crossed Horatio's face when his eyes flickered upwards and he saw Calleigh being led by Eric. Her eyes caught his and the silent stare between the two spoke volumes. She knew he wouldn't let her down. He had always been a friend, a father figure, at least the father figure she'd always imagined a girl should have. Fiercely protective and quick to cure any hurt inflicted on one of his own. Horatio looked back to the Hardestys', "I have someone here whom I think would disagree." The two followed his gaze towards Calleigh and the gasp that emanated from Ashley Hardesty's mouth was what Horatio had been looking for. It wasn't the final nail in the coffin, but close enough.

"I think we should call our lawyer now," Whit spoke up as he took his wife's hand and pulled his eyes from Calleigh.

"You do that," Horatio replied coldly, "In the meantime, I think the FBI would like you to answer a few questions of their own."


	6. Truth Revealed

The halls were quiet on the recovery floor, especially in the early morning hours. Doctors were switching shifts, nurses were checking IV's and charts. Wynter was nearly first on the rotations so it was easy to slip out of bed unnoticed. The girl was bullheaded and had a horrible habit of going to find answers for herself instead of waiting for their delivery. In a lot of ways, she was like Calleigh, the cousin she didn't know from a life she didn't remember. The only truth she had over the past few days was from her own mind. Wynter had to get out of this hospital. She needed answers, but most of all, she needed her parents. The cops had been evasive each time they came to talk to her and earlier she could have sworn she heard one of the nurses talking to a social services rep. Her worry and curiosity had grown to the breaking point and she couldn't stay at the hospital all helpless anymore. That was not her style.

So, she had commissioned Maureen to bring her a change of clothes and a pair of her better sneakers. After the nurse had made a check on her, Wynter had hastily made her way to her feet. The doctors had begun to ween her off the medications, and in the past twelve hours she hadn't the need for anymore surgeries. As far as any of them were concerned, Wynter was on her way to recovery. That was all she needed to hear to go through with her plan, really. Leaning against her bed for some support, Wynter pulled the duffel bag on the armchair open and removed the jeans and her baseball T. It was hard to get her pants on without disturbing the healing incision. The surgical incision ranged from her belly button in the front and curved around her side. Then there was the healing stab wound on her lower back that almost seemed to meet up with the newer incision. The doctors had managed to pad both wounds with sufficient gauze and protection to prevent infection or any of the stitches from popping out. Of all the injuries Wynter had in her life, this was the biggest and most complicated.

Pulling the white and navy blue baseball T over her head, the three quarter inch sleeves raked over her IV line. With a grunt and a wince, Wynter had grabbed hold, careful to get the needle intact, and she pulled the device from her arm. Then she set to work removing all the monitors sticking to her skin and fingers. She'd only have a set amount of time before one of the nurses registered there was a flat line on her heart monitor. The stairs were out of the question, so Wynter prayed the elevators were quick. Poking her head out of her door, she made sure the coast was clear before heading towards the alcove that housed the elevators. As she had suspected, the nurses came rushing into her room with a crash cart just as the elevator doors closed on Wynter's smug smile.

In the parking lot, just as she had requested, Maureen waited for her in her father's car. The CSI's were still processing the new car her father had just gotten her. Wynter slid gingerly into the passengers seat of the Lexus Coupe and buckled her seatbelt. Not that a seatbelt would help much in the incident of a crash. Even a fender bender could probably kill her at this point.

When she glanced over at Maureen, Wynter could tell her friend was uneasy about springing her from the hospital. "It's okay, I promise. You can't get thrown in jail for picking me up. As far as you know I called you after they discharged me, right?" She waited for the nod to affirm her plan. Maureen put the car in drive and headed towards downtown. Wynter had requested only a few things for her break out. One was the bag of clothes, two was the wheels, three was the stats sheet from the softball game she had missed and four was for Maureen to take her home. If her parents weren't at the hospital and they weren't in New Zealand, the only other alternative was their home. The shocking sight of the police swarming over the large waterfront property.

There was an officer at the front gate, and he held his hand up to stop the Coupe. Maureen nervously rolled to a stop and chewed her lower lip as the officer approached the driver's side window. Wynter, on the other hand, unfastened her seatbelt and opened her car door. Not once did her eyes tear away from the house, fully lit up with strangers running around everything.

"Excuse me, ladies," The officer spoke as he looked in between them, "Is there something I can help you with?"

Without removing her eyes from the scene and a look between horror and anger stamped across her face, Wynter interjected before Maureen had the chance to stutter out a response. "Yeah, man, you can tell me why the hell there are all these people in my house! Then you could follow that up with where my parents are." The tone was unmistakable. She sounded outraged, yet her voice had complete control in it, just like CSI Duquesne's.

"Uh, Miss Hardesty?" The officer seemed taken aback by a residents appearance, "I'm sorry, I wasn't told you'd be here. Actually, I was told you were in the hospital."

The reminder caused Wynter to wince only slightly and she held a protective hand against the incision tract. Her movements were slow, but turtle speed or not she started up the drive towards the home. Several officers she passed were placing the home desktops in golden hummers, cell phones and file folders as well. Private, personal things were being removed, and this only caused the anger to rise in Wynter's already frail body. When she finally made it through the large front doors, she could see the red haired man who had been with her at the scene when she was stabbed. He stood next to a man in a crisp black suit, a taller man with broad shoulders and gloves on and the blond woman, Calleigh Duquesne. The red head's eyes seemed to lock onto her presence almost instantaneously as Wynter let her eyes roll over the house.

"What the hell..." She shouted out a little louder than normal sound levels. Everything was being moved, searched and processed. Nothing was making sense anymore.

"Wynter?" the man asked as he stepped closer, "Shouldn't you still be at the hospital, sweetheart?"

She ignored his words, and instead started asking her own growing list of questions, "Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house? Where are my parents?!" She held her hand tighter against her stomach as she walked fully into the house. The main entrance led straight into one of the living rooms. It was a big open space with a step down to the center. A fireplace was off to the left of the room, a large flat screen television hanging just above the mantle. There was a large corner couch sitting opposite of it. On a typical day, there was a Wii and tons of controllers littering the low table in the center of the room. It wouldn't be so unusual for Wynter to have a dozen or so friends over to play baseball, or Guitar Hero World Tour, something they could make a complete ruckus with. When her parents would get home, the noisy bunch was forced to move to the den at the other end of the house. It wasn't much different from the living room. It was just another home owned by some millionaire and his wife who wanted to show how much money they had. Modesty had never been her parents' strong suit.

Calleigh had approached them now, a look of concern spreading over her face, "Wynter? You shouldn't be out of the hospital. You just had major surgery a day ago." As the woman approached closer, Wynter took a step backwards.

"No. I'm through with all the run arounds and the 'get your rest' comments. I want to know what is going on and I want to know NOW!" She was standing her ground. In her mind, Wynter had already decided she would not move from the spot where she stood until a viable answer was given. The past couple of days had been traumatic enough without the details being left out. Any of her friends would tell you, Wynter Hardesty was not a patient girl.

"Miss Hardesty, perhaps its better if you let my officers take you back to the hospital? It looks like you should have some medical attention." Horatio's eyes nodded towards Wynter's hand and the reddening shirt clamped beneath it. There wasn't much blood but enough to draw attention.

"What? That? That's just a loose stitching. I've played nine innings on worse. Now tell me why you are going through my stuff." Wynter noted the obvious look shared between the red haired man and Calleigh. Through their nonverbal communication he was telling her to go ahead. And go ahead she did.

Sucking in a deep breath, Calleigh stood in front of Wynter now, her hands bracing the girl's shoulders. "Wynter, during the course of our investigation we found out some disturbing news about your family," She paused, as if waiting for a reaction despite what ind it may be, "It turns out that you aren't, biologically, the daughter of Whit and Ashley Hardesty. Your DNA, however does match a kidnapping cold case from New Orleans, Louisiana. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

It was silent for a moment. Everyone within the house had stopped working and was staring in their direction. It seemed to be the most intriguing situation. Calleigh was staring into the girl's eyes, trying to figure out what was going to happen next. Wynter pulled away from her with an instinctual move, and she looked around the house. Her face that had flushed with color only moments before was turning to a sickly white. Her eyes which were already dark with restlessness seemed to sink even further as the realization of what the police were actually doing sank in. The trembling started with her legs and made its way upwards, as if she had been out on the beach all night in just bathing suit. Her knees began to knock gently back and forth, threatening to give way beneath her. Deep down, Wynter felt as if she might vomit which could also be from the sudden absence of her painkillers.

"Y-you're joking." The words came out in a shaky fashion, "You have to be. You all think my parents kidnapped me? Actually _kidnapped_! You're all crazy!"

"Wynter, I--" Calleigh moved to put her hand on the girl's shoulder as a comforting gesture, but Wynter reeled backwards, yanking her arm from reach.

"No, I don't believe you. I don't believe any of you!" Her shock was morphing into anger, "Why are you going through all of our things? What exactly are you looking for?"

"Found it!" Ryan shouted from the hangover indoor balcony. He was holding a thick black binder of legal documents. Wynter knew the piece very well. Bank statements, house mortgages, birth certificates, everything either of her parents would need if something happened to the other, or to her.

She looked around the room as Ryan brought the folder to Horatio, flipping through the pages as if in search of something important. When he found it, the man pulled out the slip cover holding two separate birth certificates. One by one, each of the adults heads raised up from the paper and fixed on Wynter. Nervously, she took a step forward.

"What? What is going on?!" Wynter was on the verge of a hysterical episode. Overthrowing tables, smashing mirrors and vases, hitting random people, the whole shebang really. And an episode like that was something she hadn't experienced since the age of four.

Horatio took the two certificates in his hands and walked the few feet over to Wynter, "Miss Ashmore, these are birth certificates,"

"Yeah, I know. They're both mine. So?" It was a typical teenage haughty response.

"One of them does belong to you, yes, but the other," He paused and turned both papers to face Wynter, "The other belongs to someone else. And we can tell this by the foot print stamped on each one."

Wynter backed away even further from the group. This was too unbelievable. Too many variables coming together all at once. Wave after wave of information hitting her, her heart jumping at each knew shred. Someone in the room tried to reason with her, to comfort her but she wasn't listening. Wynter was already heading outside, back towards Maureen's car. The world around her seemed to float from one side to another, as if she were on her father's boat. She stumbled slightly outside on the front steps and fell to her knees hard. Doubled over, Wynter's stomach retched and she began to throw up. The convulsions sent wave after wave of pain through her scarred abdomen. It was almost torture with every heave. There was a moment when it all stopped and she rolled over onto her back on the concrete beneath her. There was a smear of blood against the white shirt she wore but hr wound didn't seem to be bleeding anymore. She lay there, breathing heavily as the tears burned her eyes. Of all people, why did her world have to come crashing down?


	7. Meetings

In her dreams she was young again. A small, helpless child being led by the hand through tall grass and shrubs. Past the docks where her daddy kept his boat, and through town where her mommy took her to shop. There were strange faces that towered above her, the manly ones ignored her presence while the female ones seemed to scrunch up in adoration. She'd been used to these looks, oddly enough, for she had received them her whole life. Even those first, primal memories of the world, these faces popped up 'oohing' and 'aahing'. While meant to be cute, its not so far off a child might conceive them as scary.

From her much shorter stature on the ground, Wynter looked upwards at the hand holding her much smaller one. She didn't know this man, she'd never seen him before. He wasn't brother, or father, uncle or cousin...he was a stranger to her. And yet, in the subconscious of her adult mind, while dreaming, Wynter knew full well who this man was. Through the child's eyes in her dream, she could see him looking down at her, smiling and talking though his words were inaudible. Was this true? Was this warped dreamland really her reality? And if so, why was she only discovering it now? Why hadn't these reenactments broken through their barriers long before now?

The hand holding hers squeezed, reassuring and comforting, but not only in the dream-- real life too. An acute awareness of her wakened self reminded her of the past night's events. There was something soft beneath her, a slight stinging pain in her right hand. She was back at the hospital. Of course, in a bed with an IV line placed back in. She began to wonder how she had gotten back here and how much trouble she was really in when her hand was squeezed again. Wynter's eyes popped open, suddenly, giving the visitor a start. Wynter rolled her head to the side, her dark hair splayed out on the pillow beneath her head as she turned to look at the visitor.

"You know me, don't you?" her words were steady and even as she spoke. There was nothing left to hide really. Her whole life had been a monumental sham, and now that the illusion was broken, there was no need to hide anymore facts. "From before. Before I was Wynter Hardesty."

Calleigh Duquesne swallowed hard and allowed herself to warily glance over the girl. So much had changed since that day fourteen years ago. Was it worth it, really worth it to drudge up the past to this young woman lying before her? She'd suffered so much in the past few days. She'd been nearly murdered, in and out of serious surgical procedures, and told she was kidnapped as a toddler. The probability of ever seeing the two people she had come to know as parents was extremely low, and Wynter must feel like she was completely alone in this world. Why on earth would Calleigh want to add to any of that pain and confusion? Then again, because of all she had suffered the past few days, didn't the girl deserve to know some truth?

"Yes," the word seemed thick in her mouth as she spoke, "I knew you when you were little." She watched as Wynter seemed to adjust to her statement. Someone from her past, someone who knew who she really was. The rationality of which Wynter was taking this situation wouldn't hold long, that much was certain. She was a teenager, and teenagers never held their composure long.

"What's my name?" Her face was still eerily stony, "My real name, I mean, and who am I?"

Again, Calleigh swallowed hard, "Your name was Cerie, Cerie Duquesne, and you were born in New Orleans, Louisiana." She couldn't hold back now that she had started, "You were the baby of all the cousins, and you had three older brothers. They're all three on their way to Miami to see you."

"And what about you?" Wynter's eyes raised upwards and looked Calleigh in hers. The raw emotion Calleigh saw in her choked her up a bit, and the tears began to build up, threatening to spill down her face.

"I—I will be staying out of the way once they arrive." Her smile was a sad one, but Calleigh couldn't face her cousins, especially Dayton. Spoken or not, the blame had always been pointed her way. The Duquesne's were an old fashioned and conservative family, despite however Calleigh had grown up or into. The children were always part of the women's work, though these practices had changed with the new generation. Calleigh knew her aunt and uncle had loved her, but she couldn't stop feeling responsible for losing one of the things they had held so dear to them. She had done her job of reuniting the boys with their sister, and she would finish her forensics work on finding out who the other suspect was in her stabbing and what their motive was, but after that, she could go no further. For her sake.

"And what about my parents? The real ones?" Another question snapped Calleigh back to the present moment.

This was a hard question to answer. For years she had dodged the topic of her aunt and uncle, for it was a sad one. With her head hanging slightly, Calleigh's lips parted once more, "Wynter--a few years after your disappearance, your mother died. You father...he died during Hurricane Katrina. He was a stubborn man, refused to leave the family home. He'd have been proud of how you defended yourself and your friend, though. Would have claimed the strong southern girl in you came out." A smile crossed her lips at the sad memory of her aunt and uncle. Then there was a knock on the door. Calleigh looked upwards and could feel her heart racing. There, in the now open doorway stood her cousins and Wynter's older brothers. Wynter looked from the men to Calleigh nervously. Calleigh gave her a nod of assurance as she stood up and straightened her suit jacket. "Wynter, these are your older brothers. Dayton's the oldest, then Elijah in the khaki shorts and Madden is in the Navy uniform. They just want to see you, nothing else, sweat pea." Giving the girl's hand one last squeeze, Calleigh turned to leave, but Wynter's hand closed around the woman's.

"Are you going to come back?" The look was pleading, almost hopeful in a scared childlike manner. The name, sweet pea, it had sparked some kind of auditory memory with the young woman. Not feeling all too trusting of people who claimed to be close to her, Wynter knew she had some sort of connection with this woman.

Calleigh felt an even bigger pang in her heart as her eyes darted from her male cousins back to the girl in the bed. With a nod, she gave her a sweet smile, "My card is on the nightstand. All you have to do is call and I'll answer."

At the door, the men parted for her to go through. Madden and Elijah looked eager to speak up and hug her. Neither had seen her for the better part of fourteen years. Calleigh couldn't bring herself to look at them, so her eyes drifted to Dayton. His look was full of regret from silent years, but words could not manifest themselves. For him or Calleigh, really. While his face contorted in a troubling outlook, Calleigh's was stony, that perfect mixture of hers that could chill even the worst criminal out on the streets. Without a word, she pushed past the three brothers and into the hall. A new day was beginning, and she had a crime to solve.

- - -

On the lab table, certain items spread themselves across the lighted glass surface. Bloodied clothes, the knife used to stab Wynter Hardesty, the baseball bat and the personal effects of the dead assailant. He was a native of Miami with a wrap sheet as long as the state of Georgia. It was disconcerting such a criminal was so close to a young woman. In an odd way it was infuriating to Calleigh, making her want to solve the crime all the more. All she had to do was find the accomplice and ask who hired them. Though he had a long rap sheet, Aden Groves was not the planning type. He was a lackey, a gun for hire really, and not a very smart one at that. The amount of arrests on his rap sheet were enough to alert her to that. How he had been walking the streets and not in prison for a thirtieth strike was beyond her.

"Find anything useful?" Eric's voice called out behind her. Calleigh turned her head slightly and offered him a friendly smile before turning back to the evidence. Eric saddled up beside her and looked over the clothing, wallet contents, cell phone and attempted murder weapon. "You know Natalia spent all day yesterday going over this stuff. If there was any trace or prints, she got them."

Calleigh nodded, "I know," The whole lab had noticed how her accent seemed to have gotten thicker since the whole ordeal with her cousin had taken place. Eric had a suspicion it would only strengthen the longer her cousins remained in town. Which was honestly fine by him. "I just...I want to see what Wynter saw. Maybe there's something right in front of us we're not seeing."

She was tense, that much Eric knew. Calleigh had a certain stance when she was unsettled, or uneasy. Her shoulders would square, more so than usual, and her movements would become rigid and precise. She'd pull her hair back in a tight ponytail or clip, not to mention the tense set of her jaw. Eric reached over and put his hand on top of hers, guiding it slowly to rest on the table as he spoke, "Cal, we're going to get this guy. From his bank statement, we already know Groves got a deposit of fifty thousand dollars which means besides his partner there was a third party. Horatio is already tracing the deposit, so we should have a name soon."

Her sigh was loud and purposeful, most likely meant to rebuff his statement, "Eric, you know as well as I do that someone organized enough to try and kidnap the daughter of such a wealthy couple is not going to be dumb enough to leave a bank trail. That deposit slip is useless." Her words were true, and a bit stinging, but he couldn't help but notice she didn't move her hand away. That in and of itself was a good sign.

He nodded slowly, "At least its something, you know? And in the meantime, you can hang out with your cousins. Get to reconnect."

At that, Calleigh did seem to illicit a chuckle, "Me and this particular bunch of cousins don't mix well, Eric. We haven't been around each other since, well, since Wynter was still a part of our lives." It was unusual for Calleigh to open up so quickly about her family, and in the workplace as well. After a few issues with her father back in the beginning of her career, Calleigh had learned not to discuss such things around superiors in the lab, but with Eric around she felt as if she could talk about anything and not be judged. "My aunt and uncle tried not to blame me, or their own son but how could you not? They didn't have a suspect to point at to accuse. They had Dayton and I who were in charge of the kids. Strange enough, Dayton's always blamed me too."

Eric's brow furrowed, a deep sadness washing over him. It astounded him that anyone could ever blame Calleigh. Thinking her capable of a purely immature act, such as losing track of a child whilst babysitting, was preposterous. Calleigh was probably the most serious of any CSI he'd ever met. "Why? Wasn't he older? Wasn't he watching the kids too?"

Calleigh only shrugged at his question as she began to pack the evidence back into its container. "I don't know, and I've never asked. We went our separate ways. I finished college and never went back really."

Eric walked up next to her and put his hands against her shoulders, "Cal, it's not your fault. None of this is your fault. You know that, right?" He trailed his hands down from her shoulders to her upper arms and held on tight. It was moments like these that he really just wanted to take Calleigh far away and give her time. If left on her own, she would work herself to death on this case, and any case connected to it. Eric wanted to be her release, he wanted to be there for her when she finally cracked.

"No, Eric." She turned around to face him, her hands resting on his hips, "I am responsible, and I haven't seen my cousins since I was twenty. There's no point in reconnecting."

During her rambling, a man had appeared in the doorway. Older, in suit and tie apparel with an unsure look upon his face. Eric recognized him from his pictures as Calleigh's older cousin, Dayton. With a polite clearing of his throat, he motioned with his eyes for her to look. "I'll just let you two talk," He said, before going back to the evidence. Eric gave Calleigh's arms a reassuring squeeze, then let her go. It was time for old bridges to be mended.


End file.
